


Don't Get Sad

by Sashataakheru



Series: The Ballad of the Black Dog [1]
Category: The Fantastic Leslie RPS
Genre: Angst, M/M, POV Second Person, bandcest, break-up fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-18
Updated: 2010-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-06 10:21:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashataakheru/pseuds/Sashataakheru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set late 2000, Andrew is unwilling to accept the fact Cam wants to move on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Get Sad

You’re lying in bed beside him, morning light streaming in. Things are somewhat peaceful, but there’s something in the air that doesn’t feel right anymore. The sunlight plays across the ceiling and you realise you’ve left the window open as you glance over to see the curtains being teased by the wind.

You’d fucked last night before you fell asleep. You both knew something was lacking. The spark was gone, had been extinguished some time ago, except you didn’t want to notice and stumbled around in the dark instead. You’d both shared each other’s minds, had known each other more closely than you both let on to the others.

But things are different now.

He’s stirring beside you and you turn to face him, wondering what he’s thinking. He meets your gaze and you can’t help but feel like it’s all over. His eyes are wandering, he longs for something else. You wonder if it’s you, or if he’s just the wandering type.

“Morning.” He yawns as he speaks, and you want to reach out and touch his cheek, but your arm refuses to move.

“Hey there.”

“Been awake long?”

“Not long. Something bothering you?” You weren’t going to say anything but you can’t help it.

“It’s time to move on.”

“I figured as much. Was it anything I did?”

“Nothing of the sort. It’s just time to move on, that’s all. We had a good run, things just never got off the ground. I know this was your baby, but don’t get sad about it. Just the way things are.”

You search his eyes, trying to read what he’s really trying to say, but get nothing. “I’ll miss you,” you say, in a last ditch attempt at mending things.

“Save it. I made my mind up a while ago.”

“Have you told the others?”

“Not yet. I wanted to tell you first. You’re not mad at me are you?”

“I’m not surprised. It’s not like there wasn’t any indication things had changed between us.” You try not to look hurt because inside you’re shattered. You might acknowledge that the time’s right to end it now, but that doesn’t mean it’s not going to hurt, putting your baby to rest once and for all.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you see genuine concern on his face. “Do you want me to stay? Or should I just go now?”

“Do whatever you want. You’ll leave anyway. What difference does it make if you leave now or later?” You berate yourself for sounding so fucking depressed.

“Just promise me you’ll look after yourself, alright?” He strokes your jaw with his thumb and his touch threatens to break you. He leans in and kisses you and then everything falls apart. You clutch onto him, wanting him to stay, but he wrestles free of you and gets out of bed.

You curl into yourself, pulling the sheets tight around you, hiding in the pillows. You’re not aware of what he’s doing. You think it’s pathetic that you’re crying over him, especially when he’s still here, but you can’t help it. You feel him slide onto the bed behind you, wrapping his arms around you. You can feel his jeans through the sheets and assume that’s all he’s wearing.

“You can make your fortune in the land of songs. Find another lover and take him along. He might treat you kind, he might treat you bad, but however he treats you baby don’t get sad.” He sings your words back to you and his voice is soft and sweet.

You dry your eyes with the sheet, trying to calm down. He doesn’t want you getting upset about this. “I never quite thought this was how it would end. I always figured we’d either make it big or just fall apart. I didn’t think you’d be the one to end it.”

“Tom left. This wasn’t where his heart lay. Me, well, I’m after a change of scenery. But it was great while it lasted.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

“Oh, stop being such a baby. Cheer up, will you?”

You can’t help smiling in spite of how you’re feeling. “If it’ll get you off my back, sure.” You’re a little snarkier than you had intended.

“You’ll be fine. You’ll always have the music. Besides, from what I hear you’ve got enough to do next year without having this to worry about as well,” he says and you know he’s right.

“Maybe. It’s just hard to believe it’s over. I suppose I’ll never be a rock star now,” you say, attempting to see the funny side of things.

“You were always my rock star.” He nuzzles your neck and you shiver, wanting to be closer to him.

He pulls away again, leaving you cold and alone. You lie there, staring out at nothing, paying no attention to his movements. Time passes in relative silence. You wonder what you’ll do now. You seem to have gotten over the sudden emotional upheaval and settled on defeat.

“I’ll see you round, Andrew. Take care of yourself.”

His parting words are both hollow and full of pain. You listen to his footsteps as he leaves. You sigh and roll over onto your back as you hear the front door slam shut as he leaves. You lie there, not sure you want to get up. The phone rings. You don’t answer. You’re not ready to talk to anyone yet. You stare at the ceiling. The phone still rings. The curtains are still blowing about in the wind, casting shadows across the roof. Light dances around you. You vaguely wonder what time it is. The phone still rings. Out of irritation, you answer. You have a feeling you know who it is.

“Yes?” You try not to sound angry, but aren’t sure you succeed.

“Cam called-”

“It’s over.” You cut him off, not wanting to explain it in any more detail.

“It’s over? What, everything?”

“Yeah. Time to put the band to rest.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“It was time. Cam wants to move on. Nothing else to say really.”

“Fair enough. Are we going to have some sort of break up party then? Some sort of farewell gig?”

“Who knows?”

“You don’t sound too excited about that.”

“I’m not that excited about much right now.”

“Want me to come around later?”

“If you want.”

“See you 6-ish then.”

You go to reply but he’s hung up. The phone drops from your hands. You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. You want to lie here forever, but you now full well it’ll do you no good at all. Reluctantly, you get up and go to find solace in song. You’ll always have the music even if you never have the band.


End file.
